


watch the queen conquer

by sabrina_il (marina)



Category: Magic Mike (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/sabrina_il
Summary: The problem is that Mike thinks he's good at sex, which is patently, sadly untrue.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [J (j_writes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/gifts).



The problem isn't that Mike is cocky and young, and it certainly has nothing to do with him having a banging body and a desire to please. All of those make him a passable stripper, and certainly not the worst Rome can currently afford, opening her first club on her own with nothing but an idea, a shoestring budget and a venue she inherited from her lying ex. 

The problem is that Mike thinks he's good at sex, which is patently, sadly untrue. The problem is that he's mostly been with girls barely out of high school who get wet as soon as he takes his shirt off, and Rome shouldn't even be touching him with a cattle prod. 

And yet here she is, lying topless on sheets that have seen far better lovers, with this boy performing his "signature move", his mouth between her legs. 

It's been three seconds and it's already clear she made a mistake. His fucking dimples and that soft bubble butt made her brain foggy for a second. 

She holds back from snapping her fingers to get his attention. He's still paying his fees to perform in her club, no need to ruin that relationship. 

"Baby," she says instead, burying her fingers in his hair until he gets it and lets his head be guided up, past her navel. "Let's do something else."

At least he's reasonably good with his dick. She might have had to fire him if it turned out he wasn't even good at fucking. 

* 

She doesn't plan on doing it again. Once was enough, she's not running a charity. Young, reasonably hot white boys who are desperate for her attention are a dime a fucking dozen. But Mike is just so damn... there. Constantly. Flirting and cracking jokes and somehow making her smile in the process. 

She's pretty sure he's quit his other jobs - construction or being a mover or whatever he does to get those arms - just so he can hang around the club more. If he'd been an asshole for one single second she'd have thrown him out a long time ago, but he just keeps offering to help, picking up a broom or getting the curtains from the dryer or whatever else she normally hires people to do. 

*

It's late when she finally decides to put an end to it. Well, late in stripper terms, meaning just after dawn. The first floor is clean, the top floor is almost done. She's let everyone go home, the rest she can take care of tomorrow. 

But of course, Mike's still here, fluffing up the cushions and sorting out the tassels dangling over the entrance.

"You can go home now," Rome says, going up to her office on the second floor. "I'm gonna do paperwork now, no needy boys allowed."

"I can help." He smiles that dumb fucking smile of his, like a Farmer Joe ken doll. "Paperwork sucks, makes you tense. I can help you..." he licks his palm before smoothing his hair back. "Unwind."

She rolls her eyes. The only reason she doesn't kick him out that instant is that there's something so open, so eager to please in his face, in his posture. He's not the youngest guy dancing at her club – Federico's just turned 21 – but it's been a while since she's met a boy who made her feel so... carefree. Like she's a teenager again. Even if he is below average in bed. 

She lets herself consider it for a moment. Does she really need a project right now? 

"If you're good," she says, finally. "I might let you try."

This is how she ended up with a lying ex in the first place, Rome tells herself, as she watches Mike, slouched on the couch in her office, texting on his phone while she does the accounts. Always a sucker for the innocent-looking ones. Never good enough at spotting loyalty. 

At some point she sighs and rubs at her eyes - it's an hour before she promised herself she'd lock up today, and she's not even halfway done. 

And then there's Mike, sliding down from the couch, crawling across the floor in his jeans, nuzzling up her thighs, gently pushing her legs further apart with his body. 

She puts the pen down, closes the folder with the balance sheets and caresses his hair with her free hand. She uses the other to slowly unzip her own jeans. The chair is comfy enough that she can just slide down a little, pull her panties out of the way enough to let him have a taste. 

As soon as he starts slurping she grabs his hair to make him stop. Not hard, not enough to hurt, just enough to signal, but something changes about his breathing as soon as she does. Maybe it's that he's on his knees for this and she's sitting up, maybe it's that they're in an office, but something about it is clearly messing with his head. Whatever, she doesn't have that kind of time.

She runs over his lips with the thumb of her other hand, and he parts them to let her in. Once her fingers are on his tongue she pushes him back towards herself and guides his tongue to her clit. "Start there, baby," she says. "Not too harsh. Work up to it."  
He starts licking and praise Jesus, it's actually close to what she likes. His hands travel to her hips, and as soon as she lets out a moan he starts getting even more enthusiastic. 

"A little faster," she says, letting her eyes fall closed. He does as he's told and oh, she can feel the electricity start to warm up her spine. 

"Good," she says. 

She can feel him make a sound against her pussy. The vibrations feel good, but she's not going to trust him with anything more complicated right now. "Keep working that clit, baby," she says, and he goes even faster. 

She comes about fifteen minutes later, legs up on his shoulders, slouched halfway down the chair, moaning quietly. 

After her pussy stops spasming she pulls him up for a short kiss. His lips are swollen, red like fairytale apples, and there's a dazed look in his eyes. When she pulls away from the kiss he sinks back down to the floor, sitting back on his haunches and taking deep breaths. The bulge in his pants looks almost painful.

She'd expect him to be on his feet by now. Maybe trying to kiss her or rip off his clothes or try to get her to lie down somewhere, but none of that happens. 

She nudges him with her boot. "Get on the couch, baby." And he goes. 

She probably should have seen this. Blindingly obvious, on a boy like Mike. She must have stopped paying attention thanks to his godawful sex skills. 

When he's back on the couch she tells him to unzip his jeans and pull out his dick. She wipes herself off with some tissues while she watches him jerk off, and he doesn't even ask her to pay more attention to him. The fact that she's busy putting her clothes back together only makes him moan harder, like he's filming a porno, and shoot in about two seconds. He doesn't get any of it on the brown leather though, only on his hands and stomach. The manners is probably why she'll keep him around. 

"God, Rome," he says, eyes closed, catching his breath while he zips himself up again. His hands are slow, like he's forgotten how to use them. 

"I've got a business to run, Mike" she says, when he's done. But she gives him a little smile. 

He looks at her like he's about to ask if he can move into this office. Like nothing he's ever done has felt as great as jerking himself off in front of her. 

She doesn't have time for this, but… he's young, and he's so, so clueless, and loyalty is hard to come by in this world. Who knows what he'll grow up to be?

"You can stay late tomorrow," she says, turning back to her paperwork, letting him know break time is over. 

She hears him give a happy little sigh before walking out of her office and down the stairs.


End file.
